


Eye of the Storm.

by psyleedee



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Body Worship, Bottom Castiel/Top Dean Winchester, Castiel Likes it Rough (Supernatural), Castiel and Dean Winchester Use Their Words, Communication, Developing Relationship, Dirty Talk, Explicit Sexual Content, Feelings, First Time Bottoming, Fluff and Smut, Foreplay, Friends to Lovers, Gay Sex, Gentle Sex, Hand Jobs, Human Castiel (Supernatural), Idiots in Love, Kissing, Light Dom/sub, Loss of Virginity, Love Confessions, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Multiple Orgasms, Needy Castiel (Supernatural), Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Power Bottom Castiel (Supernatural), Praise Kink, Rimming, Semi-Public Sex, Sexual Tension, Shameless Smut, Sharing Body Heat, Sharing a Bed, Sharing a Room, Thunderstorms, Topping from the Bottom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:02:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26727139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psyleedee/pseuds/psyleedee
Summary: The deafening splatter of rain against the windshield of the Impala fills Castiel's ears. The fog in front of them is blinding, and yet, Dean pushes the horn over and over again. Thunder crashes, lightning sizzling a few miles away from the sleek, black car stuck in the midst of an old city road.They should have known better. Most importantly, Dean.It's not a big deal, Dean had said, We'll be alright, he'd said. Hmph. Alright, his ass.And now guess who was stuck on an abandoned Florida lane, in the middle of a dark, August thunderstorm?That's right. The dauntless duo themselves.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 24
Kudos: 262





	1. The Calm.

**Author's Note:**

> part 2 will be uploaded soon! sorry for being inactive all these days, i was busy editing my dcbb, plus, i had to cope with schoolwork. hope you guys like this!

"There's an inn a mile back. We could try that, Dean."

The deafening splatter of rain against the windshield of the Impala fills Castiel's ears. The fog in front of them is blinding, and yet, Dean pushes the horn over and over again. Thunder crashes, lightning sizzling a few miles away from the sleek, black car stuck in the midst of an old city road. 

They should have known better. Most importantly, Dean. 

_It's not a big deal,_ Dean had said, _We'll be alright_ , he'd said. Hmph. Alright, his ass. 

And now guess who was stuck on an abandoned Florida lane, in the middle of a dark, August thunderstorm? 

That's right. The dauntless duo themselves. 

Castiel huffs a breath, lips in a pout as he folds his arms over his chest. Dean rolls his eyes, grumbles something to himself, and hooks his arm around Castiel's seat, glancing back as he pulls the car in reverse. 

"Should've just stayed at the motel."

Dean side-eyes Castiel, lips twitching in frustration as he tries to pull the car in reverse. A glance outside the window shows Castiel the water has pooled up to the bottom of the car door, and he sighs. There doesn't seem to be any chance of them making out of this thunderstorm dry. Right as Castiel turns back to Dean, who appears to be engrossed in trying to manoeuvre the car into reverse on the road, a loud clang echoes through the car, and it comes to a clamouring halt. 

"What was that?"

Castiel asks, hand flying onto Dean's lap on instinct. Dean squeezes his eyes shut, and his hand flies to the steering wheel as he lets out a string of curses. 

"Fuck, fuck, Baby don't do this to me, sweetheart. Fuck, don't do this to me, not out here sweetheart."

"Dean, what's wrong?"

Castiel asks once again, voice rising with desperation. 

"I think we're stuck. I think she just gave up."

Dean sighs, slumping down in his seat, and Castiel's eyes widen. 

"What?! No, Dean what are we going to do?"

"Calm down-"

Dean begins, but Castiel doesn't let him finish, instead, meeting his eyes, lips curled in a frown as he speaks. 

"Dean, I told you we should have stayed back at the motel, we should have left tomorrow morning, but no, _I'm Dean Winchester, I know better than anybody else in the world-_ "

"Oh yeah? Well, what do you suggest we do? You don't even have your powers, Cas, if you did we could've gotten out of her like yesterday. But now you're stuck with me, so you're going to shut up."

Dean snarls, his deep green eyes regarding Castiel with something cold and frigid, before washing over with regret when he catches the quiver in Castiel's lip. 

"I wish I had my powers too, Dean. But I don't. I lost them. And you're right. Now I'm stuck with you. So please, _fearless leader_ , guide the way."

The tone of Castiel's words is sharp, yes, but it serves Dean right. 

This isn't the first time he's commented on Castiel's uselessness. And it surely won't be his last. That morning they'd fought as well, and they'd fought in the afternoon as well, right before leaving. The tension in the car is thick, laced with anger and words unspoken, and although it hurts Castiel to see Dean angry, frustrated, and so, so, exhausted from the hunt, he doesn't know how to help. Had he not lost his powers when he fell from grace, he could have helped them out of the storm in a matter of seconds. 

Now, he can only wait. 

"Fuck, she hasn't moved a bit. I don't think she can."

Dean says, drawing Castiel out of his stupor, and he glances back at Dean, a sheen of sweat covering his forehead, as he pinches the lapels of his flannel jacket and flicks them, trying to get some air. 

"Who?"

Castiel asks mindlessly, earning him another pretentious roll of Dean's eyes. 

"The car, Cas, _the car_."

"Sorry, right."

Dean groans, and shifts forward in his seat, grumbling as he shrugs his canvas jacket off, and flings it on the back seat. 

"It's hot in here, damn it," h e says, and Castiel watches, motionless as he shuffles in his seat, trying to keep himself occupied, as he reaches back for his duffle bag. 

"Damn it, we're out of food. I thought we'd stop at a gas station somewhere to stock up, but that doesn't seem to be happening anytime soon."

"Can't you try starting her up again?"  Castiel suggests, and Dean regards him with a tender expression in his eyes, one that leaves Castiel confused. He dismisses it, however, in favour of unbuttoning his own jacket. 

"Think I haven't?"

Castiel simply sighs and allows his eyes to wander back to the ferocious thudding of the storm against his window. 

As a human, every single emotion, every single sensation Castiel has felt as an angel seems to have intensified. These days, Castiel finds himself crying into his pillow, cursing out loud, laughing till his stomach hurts, and aroused until he's climaxed twice already. Every single urge, every drive his human body has, seems to dominate over his coherence. He has days where he doesn't want to do anything but pleasure himself in bed, or days where he's angry every moment, or days where he can't stop crying, choking, gasping. Days where he's so happy, he finds butterflies fluttering within him. 

Now seems to be one such moment. It's hot, exhaustingly hot in the car, and with the paired body heat, the car only seems to be turning into an oven, and all Castiel wants to do is dip himself into a bucket of water to calm his nerves, or breathe in a lungful of fresh, cold air, or claw his clothes off. But he can't do anything at all. 

"Guess we're spending the night in here."

Dean says, and Castiel glances at him, his shapely face illuminated by the glow of a single lamp post in the corner, in the otherwise darkened sky, and Castiel feels a surge of arousal course through him, prompting him to bite his lip as he tears his eyes away from Dean. 

_ About that...  _

It's something Castiel has only just begun to understand. 

As an angel, the affection, the warmth Castiel felt for Dean, it had always been pure. Chaste. But as a human, it's laced with need. With the need to touch, with the need to taste, with the need to be full. And it frightens him at times, his sudden need to straddle Dean's lap and strip him off his clothes, bury himself in Dean's scent, in his skin, in his taste, in his arms. The need to hold him close and listen to him climax, to feel himself buried inside Dean, or at most times, have Dean buried inside him. And every time, he has to remind himself to behave. 

"What if we walked back to the inn we passed a few blocks back?"

Castiel asks, and Dean turns to him, at once quite close, and his hand brushes over Castiel's when he reaches for something on the back seat. However, at Castiel's words, he seems to take an abrupt pause. 

"Are you joking? Or are you serious?"

"Why do you think I'd joke in a situation as grave as this? Not all of us can achieve your level of carelessness."

Look, Castiel doesn't mean for the bitterness in his thoughts to seep into his words. It's just that he's aroused, he's aching, he's sweaty, he's tired, he's sleepy, and he can't put up with Dean in the small, compact interior of the car, especially not when Dean is regarding him with such amusement. Although the amusement does wilt into a frown. 

"God, if I could just keep your mouth full for a while to stop you from speaking, I'd be a hell of a lot wiser."

Dean groans, and at once, because Castiel has, at this point, no control over his mind, images of himself, on his knees, under Dean, hands in his hair, a weight on his tongue, lips slick, aching throat, steady rocks as the weight shifts inside his mouth, fill Castiel's mind, and he holds onto the side of the leather seat to keep his arousal at bay. _No, no, no, this is all wrong._

"I'm serious, Dean. It will be hard, but at least we'll be able to find a place to stay for the night. We can come get Baby in the morning."

"I don't know if it was an inn, Cas. And say, by a long shot, even if the inn is open and accepting, are you going to walk through a storm for an entire mile? We might as well die from hypothermia, or maybe drown in the water."

Castiel sighs and looks out the window, another thunder crashing, louder and closer to them, and it has Castiel flinching, moving closer to Dean. 

"The water's only till our knees out there. Besides, we won't be able to spend the night here, Dean. It's impossible. The car’s broken down, there's no way we can open the windows, so the longer we stay here, the longer we're going to be sweating."

Dean considers his words for a moment, his hand drifting closer to Castiel's, in what he assumes to be a subtle movement, but Castiel could never miss something like that. The next moment, a hand brushes against Castiel's arm, and for the first time that evening, Dean turns his shoulders to Castiel, and pauses to meet Castiel's eyes. 

"Look, Cas, I don't care about how wet I get. It's you I'm worried about. What if we don't make it through the stor-"

A finger on Dean's lip shuts him up. Castiel's finger. 

"Dean, please, the storm doesn't look like it's going to weaken, but we have time until it gets stronger. So, please, I need you to trust me."

In a heartbeat, something seems to grow within Dean's eyes, something dark, something hungry, and it only amplifies Castiel need, because there is something so primal, something so _un-_ righteous in the eyes of the righteous man, and it shows, _boy_ , it shows. It shows when Dean's breath stutters, it shows when his eyes drop down to glance at the finger at his lips, it shows when his eyes regard Castiel, something eager, something profound. 

"Do you trust me?"

Castiel asks, his voice low and breathless as he stares into Dean's intense eyes. 

"Yes, Cas."

Comes Dean's hoarse reply and a large clamour crashes against the car, sending the car swerving, and it only pushes Dean closer to Castiel, who grips onto Dean's shoulders, a shudder wracking their bodies as their eyes widen. 

"Fuck, we have to get out of here," Dean says as if that's not what Castiel has been trying to tell him for the past hour. 

"Okay, grab your wallet and phone, and on the count of three, we leave. I'll come for you, okay, don't stray. Capische, Cas?"

"Uh, yes, I capische."

"'Right, one, two," Dean starts, and Castiel reaches for the door, unlocking it right when Dean says, "-three."

The doors slam open, the previously muffled sound of the rain amplified, and at once, Castiel is struck with hard, merciless drops of rain, as the skies rumble above them with a deafening cry. Castiel's trousers are soaked, the water rising up to his thighs, as the rain patters on against his back, compelling him to hunch downwards, as he holds the duffle above his head, eyes searching avidly for Dean, as he takes a few heavy steps forward. 

"Dean-"

He calls out, helpless as he struggles to tread through the rising water, skin and hair damp, clothes soaked, and shoulders aching with the force of the shower. 

"Cas- Cas, I'm coming, stay right there."

Dean calls back, and at once, Castiel catches a glimpse of Dean, struggling to walk through the water. He holds onto the side of the car to support himself until he sees Dean, who has been doing the same, and their eyes meet from under their hunched shoulders, and Dean holds a hand out. 

"It's okay, buddy, I'm right here-"

"I know, stop talking."

Castiel yells, partly since he's annoyed as it is, and the last thing he wants is Dean babying him for being powerless. 

Their hands meet around Baby's trunk, and Dean tugs Castiel closer, closer until he's nestled against Dean's damp shoulder, and Dean, chivalrous as ever, wraps his arm tight around Castiel's back, holding him close, skin pressing against skin, breaths mingling, damp clothes sticking, as Dean brushes a wet tuft of hair away from Castiel's forehead. 

"Don't worry, we got this, okay?"

"Just a mile, Dean, we don't have a lot of time."

Castiel pants, shoulders heaving, as Dean urges him to take a step forward. 

"I know. I want you to hold on, alright? Don't let go."

Dean says, voice breathless as they trudge forward. 

"I won't."

Castiel promises. 

The sky roars with thunder above them, tar-black flashing white and electric within the span of a few seconds, and the tumultuous bellow of the ceaseless thunder thrums under Castiel's skin as he huddles against Dean, heavy steps falling through the water, and a glance back shows him they've come a long way from Dean's car. In the back of his mind, Castiel prays for Baby to stay intact through the storm, for he knows how much Dean cherishes her. 

The inn appears to be nowhere in sight, at least not until they walk, towards an abandoned **STOP** sign. Castiel supposes it's been about fifteen minutes already, and Baby is far gone. As they walk forward silently, save for their erratic breathing, a faint object in the distance catches Castiel's attention. 

"There, Dean, there—"

Castiel yelps and Dean pauses, eyes narrowing as he studies the miniature object, which in actuality Castiel knows is a small inn, in the far distance. 

"It'll take us another twenty minutes to get there, Cas. And we can't turn back."

Dean sighs, and his voice, _oh_ so heavy with exhaustion, twists something sour in Castiel's gut, and he reaches up to stroke Dean's neck. 

"That's exactly why we have to keep going."

Dean grunts, trudging his heavy feet forward, and they tread on, one step after the other, jacket held overhead, bodies flush against each other, the fear of losing each other keeping them going— the need for survival keeping them going, and yet, as they heave through the water, which now has risen up to their waists, only a few bitter thoughts plague Castiel's mind. 

How different things could have been with his powers. How he could have saved them so much trouble by simply using his grace. How he could have avoided all of this if it weren't for his uselessness. 

Ten minutes pass, they're nowhere near. 

Fifteen minutes pass and the inn appears somewhat bigger. 

Twenty minutes pass and the inn has broadened. 

Twenty-five minutes later, Castiel and Dean find themselves a few mere steps away from the inn, which isn't lit up, only has a dull, yellow bulb hanging at the front, and Castiel heaves a sigh of relief alongside Dean, who grabs his waist and pulls him into a spontaneous but fierce hug, holding an arm tight around Castiel's neck as he mumbles in his ear, voice laced with fatigue. 

"We made it, Cas, we made it, buddy."

Castiel can do nothing but go pliant in Dean's arms, burying himself in Dean's neck as he nods. 

"We did it. We did it."

He chants as if he knew nothing but those three words, and only when Dean pulls away to cup his jaw in his hand, and stare into Castiel's weak eyes does Castiel smile. 

"Just a few more steps, buddy, just a few more."

Castiel nods to Dean's words, and they tread forward, boots clomping into the ground as they walk up to the narrow porch attached to the front of the inn. On closer inspection, the inn seems to be a house, some sort of archaic one storey house, long but short, and they drop their jackets onto the front porch, where a thin, wooden roof keeps them dry. Castiel slumps back against the front door, and pants, breathing in a large lungful of air, as his chest heaves. Dean drops against his shoulder, hands gripping Castiel's waist, as they stay silent for a moment. Castiel reaches up, threading his fingers through Dean's short, blonde hair, and pulling him close, until his nose brushes against Castiel's clavicle. 

"D'you think anyone's inside?"

Dean asks, looking up at Castiel. 

"We should try knocking," Castiel says, and moves away, allowing Dean to turn as Castiel faces the door. With a shaky breath, Castiel holds his hand up and bangs it against the wooden door. 

"Hello?!"

He calls out and waits. A few seconds pass by, but no response comes. Dean shrivels a little in place, and huffs a defeated sigh, before Castiel bangs both fists against the door, over and over, screaming for someone to open the door, and yet. 

No response. 

Castiel slumps against the door, defeated, and sighs. 

"I'm sorry, Dean."

"For what?"

"For bringing you out here, so far away, through so much trouble, only to-"

A loud creaking sound draws both their attention, and they snap their heads up to the door, which opens slowly and gently, as if the slightest force would have it toppling over, and a few dreadful seconds later, a small, pale head pops out. 

"Yes?"

It's a woman, must be in her seventies, with thin fingers, supple, wrinkly white skin, and thin, curved eyes. Her short gray hair flows over her shoulder. 

Before Castiel can say much, Dean steps forward, fluttering his princess-like eyelashes at her as he speaks. 

"Ma'am, I'm Dean, and this is my friend, Cas, and we're, we're stuck in the storm, we were, we were hoping we could stay here for a while. If that's alright with you."

A tender smile graces her lips, and she steps back, opening the door wider to allow them inside 

"Oh, of course, sweetheart, come in, you must be exhausted. You too, pretty boy, I'll make you boys some cocoa."

Dean sends Castiel a smile before turning to the woman, and Castiel wears a relieved smile as well, as he follows Dean inside. 

"So, where are you from?"

"Lebanon, Kansas, ma'am."

Dean answers, and Castiel takes his time to drink in the interior of the house. It's minimalist, to say the least, walls made of chipped wood, a dim, yellow light hanging in the living room, and two narrow passages that lead into dark rooms. Castiel can't get a good view of the rooms, but with the distance between both rooms, it appears as if they might be big. 

The woman continues to converse with Dean, asking them about their whereabouts and such small talk, and she urges them to settle onto the leather couch, much to Dean's refusal, since he shows his concern about wetting the leather. She laughs but urges them to sit anyway, and Dean and Castiel finally comply. 

"So, boys, you got any fresh clothes? I'm guessing everything's wet now, how long did you walk here for?"

"About half an hour. Give or take."

Castiel says, and a shiver wracks his body. Dean's hand reaches for his arm on instinct, and Castiel allows himself the luxury to take it. 

"Oh, dear. Just you wait, I have some clothes, old clothes that belonged to my husband and my son, they should fit you both. And if you wait some more, I can get a bath running for you, although I'm not sure if the water will be hot enough."

She stands up, rushing into the kitchen, which is framed by a large divider next to the living room. 

"No, no, the bath's too much. We'd love the fresh clothes though, and if it's no problem, we'd just like a bed to lay in."

She pauses, and skims her eyes over the pair, before quirking her bottom lip. The scent of milk boiling in a pot wafts through the air. 

"Well, I have a bedroom, yes, but it's only got a single bed. I don't think you'll mind, though."

When she says this, a playful smile graces her lips, one that confuses Castiel, but apparently, has Dean flustered. 

"Erm, honestly, ma'am, we don't mind anymore. Just need somewhere to sleep."

Dean says, and she nods. 

"Alright, I'll put the cocoa on hold while I get you your clothes. Stay put, boys."

She smiles, a very maternal smile at that, before disappearing into one of the darkened rooms. 

Dean shuts his eyes and leans back on the couch, his hand slipping around Castiel's back to draw him into a brief hug. 

"Are you alright?"

Castiel asks, for lack of better words. 

"Never been better."

Dean opens his eyes, a rejuvenated glint within them as he regards Castiel, fingers brushing across Castiel's jaw. 

"Cas, I," He starts with a hesitant gulp, "-I'm sorry for what I said to you. I know it's been hard, losing your powers, falling from everything you ever stood for," Dean shifts so that he's on the edge, and his hands reach for Castiel's, taking them in his own as he meets Castiel's eyes, "-and I shouldn't have said what I said. I should have been more careful, more thoughtful about what I said. And I just, I don't want you thinking that you can't come to me if you ever— if you ever feel like something's bothering you. I just," Dean pauses, eyes glassy as he locks his jaw and his eyes wander down, "-I want to be here for you, Cas. Please let me be here for you."

Castiel swallows thickly, stunned for a moment by Dean's sudden outpour of emotions. His lips fall open as he gulps, and squeezes Dean's hands. 

It's unusual to see such outwardness from Dean. Dean, who is always so reticent when it comes to emotions and feelings, Dean, who would rather let his feelings and thoughts simmer inside him than say them out loud, no matter how hard it gets to keep them in. And here he is, in some small house by an abandoned street in Florida, drenched from the thunderstorm, hands covering Cas's, and a glint of regret in his eyes. 

"Dean, I, I don't know what to say. I— yes, I mean, I want you here, with me... because," Castiel gulps and his eyes turn glassy as he regards Dean, "- because it gets hard sometimes. And it would be nice to have someone beside me. Someone who understands."

Before Castiel knows it, he's being pulled into a hug, and he can't help the stream of tears that pours down his cheek. It's hidden by the dampness on his face, fortunately, and he buries himself in the crook of Dean's neck, surprised by Dean's sudden tendency to initiate physical contact, yet craving the intimacy more than anything. 

"Ahem."

The sound of a throat being cleared in the distant causes both men to snap away from each other, and they look up to see the elderly woman standing a few feet away from them, a soft smile on her face, and a bunch of clothes in her hands. Dean is the first to move, walking over to the woman with a thankful grin. 

"Thank you so much, ma'am, it really means a lot, you doing this for us."

She laughs and dismisses him. 

"Oh, it's nothing. Now you boys hold on for a second, you," She points at Castiel, who rises to his feet, "-could you help me with the cocoa, doll?"

Castiel gives her a cursory smile before nodding. 

"Of course."

She tells Dean to wait, as she hands a tray of hot cocoa to Castiel, who thanks her for it, and follows her into one of the dark passages alongside Dean. 

"Alright," She says, as they halt at a door, and she twists the doorknob, pushing it open, allowing them a view of the room, "-fresh sheets are in the cupboard. There's water bottles, big towels, a lamp, only one that works I'm afraid, and a few quilts in there. Tell me if you need anything more. Oh, and the bathroom is right there, adjacent to the cupboard."

"Thank you so much, ma'am."

Castiel smiles, as he leans back against the door, studying the room. It isn't the biggest, but it's enough for both of them. It's dark, save for the single night lamp on the bedside table. A thin queen-sized bed sits at the centre of the room, backed up against a wall, and next to it, a cupboard, and next to the cupboard, a door to the en-suite bathroom. There's a window facing the bed, and it shakes when the rain patters against it, making a slight creaking sound. 

"S'good. Way better than the backseat of the car."

Dean comments, as the woman leaves them alone, all to themselves with a final smile.


	2. The Storm.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> smut is finally here ;P

"S'good. Way better than the backseat of the car."

Dean comments, as the woman leaves them alone, all to themselves with a final smile.

"Mhmm," Castiel says, as he shuts the door behind them. Dean sets the clothes on a bedside table. Castiel settles the tray next to the heap of folded clothes and reaches for the cupboard, looking for the big towels, which sit right at the top. They smell like detergent, and Castiel grabs them and hands them over to Dean- _Dean?_ The towels remain in Castiel's outstretched hand, so he turns back to see Dean, who is leaning back against the door, hands tucked behind his back, as he breathes in slow, languid breaths. 

Castiel simply watches him for a moment, before carefully and silently stepping over to him, until his face is just a few mere inches away. 

"Dean."

His voice is hoarse, breathless, and it prompts Dean to slip his eyes open, lips falling at the sight of Castiel standing so close, green eyes thinning as his pupils grow, and his breath quickens. 

"Cas," he says, weaker than Castiel's voice, and their eyes, now locked onto each other, don't budge. A chill runs down Castiel's spine, and the scent of Dean, sweaty and damp, laced with the fading traces of his cologne, triggers a tight heat behind his navel, overwhelming his senses. 

Before things can get any further, Dean appears to withdraw, a questioning look on his face as he shakes his head, takes a breath, and steps away. Castiel is confused. _Hadn't Dean wanted this?_ His eyes had gone so dark, so deep with — with something _inscrutable_ , and he'd been so close to tipping them over the edge of what they've been dancing on these past few days. _Why this sudden change?_

With a frown, Castiel turns away and hands Dean one of the towels, a little harshly than he'd like to admit, as he kicks his boots off in the side of the room, shrugs his jacket off, and walks over to inspect the clothes. 

"These... will fit us,"  Castiel says, and holds up a thick, green henley shirt, one he thinks might fit Dean, and sets it aside on the bed. He opens a pair of sweatpants, big and black, and hands them back to Dean. Whatever size the other clothes are, they will have to fit Castiel. 

When Castiel turns back, Dean is already stripping himself, shoulders hunched from the fatigue, as he silently undresses. Castiel doesn't mean to stare at him, but there Dean is, looking so calm, so small, bare skin on display, and it sends coils of arousal curling within Castiel's guts. Dean turns to grabs the set of clothes, and at first, Castiel thinks he might be repulsed by the idea of being watched, but Dean simply cracks a weak smile. 

"Enjoyin' the show, buddy?"

He winks, and Castiel turns his face away, his cheeks burning up as he chews on his bottom lip. He doesn't look at Dean then, who changes into the sweatpants, forgoing his wet briefs, and once Dean is done, he pads over to where Castiel is standing, a towel slung around his shoulder as he dries his hair. 

"Why don't you get changed, and I'll get those cocoas reheated?" H e asks, and Castiel looks up to him from under his fluttering lashes and nods, instantly reaching for the buttons on his thin white button-up shirt, and Dean clears his throat. 

"Great, erm."

Dean stands still for a moment, simply watching as Castiel works his fingers at the buttons, the shirt falling open to expose his soft, tanned skin, and above him, he hears Dean's breath hitch. Gentle fingers push the button-up off his shoulders, leaving him bare-chested, and he finally, _finally_ tilts his head up to meet Dean's eyes. 

Dark, hungry eyes meet Castiel's, and he barely suppresses a whimper that escapes past his throat. Castiel's balance falters as the heady scent of Dean's skin fills his senses, and he breathes in a deep lungful. 

"Cas."

"It's too cold."  Castiel doesn't know what prompts him to say it, but Dean falters, an apologetic expression on his face, as he clears his throat and turns away. 

Castiel reaches for the belt, although in the back of his mind he wishes it were Dean's hands undoing his buckle, as he pushes his wet trousers down and they hit the floor with a wet smack. 

"Dean?"

"Yeah, Cas?"

"I need you to," It happens in the blink of an eye, Castiel's arousal overwhelms his coherence, not too much, just enough for him to muster the courage to ask for what he wants, "-I need you to touch me, please."

Dean freezes, and an evident shudder wracks his body at Castiel's words. 

"You don't know what you're saying."

"Why? Do you think I'm drunk? Do you think I don't know what I want?"

Dean gulps. 

"Castiel-"

"Dean please, I've wanted this for so long. You said you'd be here for me," Castiel touches Dean's shoulder and nudges him to turn until his dark, wide eyes regard Castiel and his bare body, "-I know you want this too, why are you making me wait?"

Dean drifts a hesitant hand out to graze over Castiel's skin, and his palm brushes against one of Castiel's nipples, pulling a weak moan out of Castiel, as he sways, head dizzy with need, as his forehead falls against Dean's clavicle, hands gripping Dean's hips. 

"Fuck."  Dean rasps, and lowers his head to the crook of Castiel's neck, laying a gentle kiss on the expanse of soft skin. The first touch of Dean's lips to his skin sends Castiel into a frenzy, urgent need to be touched, be filled, be kissed. 

Just as he's dragging his lips down Castiel's shoulder, Dean pauses, and Castiel's shut eyes flutter open, hands tightening around Dean's waist, around the soft fabric of the shirt and he pulls away in time to gauge Dean's expression. 

There's an intense look on Dean's face, and for a moment it stuns Castiel. Wait... does Dean feel _coerced_ into doing this? 

"Dean, I'm sorry, I— I understand if you don't want to do this, I just thought you felt the same about— about us. I don't want you to feel compelled into doing this."

Castiel pulls away frantically, taking a few staggering steps back until his back crashes against the wall with a painful thud, and Dean's wide, round eyes pin him in place. 

Dean starts at once, scrambling over to where Castiel is pressed against the wall, taking his hands into his own as he regards Castiel with a soft glint in his eyes. 

"What? No, no, you're not, I mean, I want this Cas, I really do, but this... Things are gonna' change if we do this. And I... I don't know if I want that change or not."

"Won't it be liberating? It will for me. I won't have to hide my feelings from you anymore. I won't have to be miserable about you going home with some woman at the bar. I'll be happier with you. I'll be able to touch you anyway I want. Unless of course, you f-feel confined, or s-suffocated."

Before Castiel knows it, there's a quiver in his voice, and tears brim within his eyes, because _damn it_ , he can't take the silence anymore. He can't just sit and watch Dean, and not be able to touch him, or kiss him, and he can't be happy without Dean being a part of it, and he can't go on another day knowing Dean is right there, so close to him, yet miles and miles apart. 

A broad hand cups the back of his head and draws him in, as Castiel sputters out a soft sob, face pressed against Dean's shoulder, arms wrapped tight around his waist as his shoulders jerk, another sob wracking his body. 

"Hey, hey, Cas, hey," Dean's voice is weak, despite the evident effort to be assuring, and his hand strokes the back of Castiel's head, "-hey, I want this too Cas, I want nothing more than this. I want to be with you, I want to touch you, kiss you, hold you, anyway I want, but there are things we have to think about, things-"

"Why can't we think about them later? Why can't you just forget who I am for tonight, and forget whatever we have to say to each other, and just-"

"Cas," Dean's voice is firm now, and he holds Castiel's head in both hands, tilting it up so his eyes meet Dean's, "-I would rather keep reminding myself who you are, over and over again, if we do this tonight. Because nothing would make me happier than making you happy. So, please, don't ever say that I'd feel constricted or suffocated ever being with you. You and Sam, the two of you are the reason I wake up each morning, the reason I hope to wake up the next morning when I go to bed. Don't you ever, ever think I'd regret being with you."

Castiel can't help the sob that slips past his lips, and he chews the inside of his lip to keep himself from stuttering. Lips press against his forehead, and he looks up at Dean through his cloudy eyes. 

"Smile for me, sweeheart," Dean says and wipes a few stray tears off Castiel's cheeks with his thumbs. Castiel gives in with ease, breaking into a soft grin when Dean bends down to nose against his cheek. 

Their breaths pick up in that single moment, where Dean's nose rests against Castiel's cheek, and their chests heave with anticipation; Dean's hands drifting down Castiel's arms, before Castiel tilts his head upwards, ever so slightly, allowing their lips to brush against each other in the softest graze, and all Castiel can do, is feel, as he shuts his eyes, and warm, dry lips press against his own. The touch draws an unexpected moan from his throat, and Dean relishes in the thrum of the moan in their connected mouths, sucking his plump bottom lip, nipping at the skin, their heated breaths mingling as Dean plants his hands on either side of Castiel's torso on the wall, swaying forward to drink in every single taste of Castiel's lips. Castiel finds himself breathless in a split second's time, knitting his eyebrows together as Dean suck his lips dry, the kiss somehow still moist, as Dean licks at the seam of Castiel's lips, a shaky breath slipping past Castiel's mouth as he parts his lips for Dean. He thought the kiss couldn't get any better with Dean's lips upon his own, but boy was he wrong because the minute Dean's hot, wet tongue glides against his own, Castiel all but melts in Dean's arms. 

" _Mmh—_ "  Castiel moans, arching his back off the wall as he reaches up to hold Dean's head in his hands, pulling him close, so much that their noses press against each other, and Dean grinds his hips against Castiel's, brushing something hard and chubby against the front of Castiel's briefs, and it sends an electric jolt sizzling through Castiel's nerves. 

"Fuck, you're so hot, Cas. God, see what you do to me."  Dean hisses, and seizes Castiel's waist, jerking him off the wall, as he shoves him towards the bed, pulling away for a few refreshing seconds, as it allows both men to breathe, and Castiel bounces back on the bed, spreading his legs wide open as he shifts back against the headboard. Dean pants, chest heaving as he inhales deeply, and pulls his green Henley shirt off in a single fluent motion, before climbing atop the bed, surging towards Castiel, crawling between his spread legs, a hungry grin on his face. 

Right as Dean reaches further, hands crawling up Castiel's thighs, he pauses for a moment, looks straight at Castiel, purses his lips and then-

And then laughs. 

Castiel can only stare in amusement as Dean laughs, his head falling against Castiel's shoulder as he wraps his arms around Castiel's waist, tugging him closer and nosing against his cheek. Castiel narrows his eyes in confusion, his cock aching from the need to be touched, his body warm from their kiss. He threads his hand through Dean's hair and tugs his face upward. 

"What's so funny?"

"It's just," Dean starts, eyes twinkling with mirth as he gazes up at Castiel, fingers stroking against Castiel's stomach, "- I can't believe I'm doing this. You're not like the others I've, I've, I've done this with before."

"Because I'm biologically a male?"

"No, because you're someone who means more to me than anything else in the world. And I just, I want to take time with this Cas. We have the night, we have a bed all to ourselves, and I just, I don't want to rush into things. I want this to be better than anything you've ever had before, anything you'll ever have, I want this to be about you, Cas."

The tenderness in Dean's voice is enough to have Castiel softening in his arms, and he blinks a few times, simply taking in Dean's words, the heat behind his navel recoiling as his cock aches under Dean's weight. 

"Dean?"

"Yeah?"

Dean asks, eyes fixed on Castiel, who pouts his lips, a childish stubbornness in his voice as he squeezes his thighs around Dean. 

"I really want you inside me. Please don't make me wait."

Castiel says, and he half expects Dean to jump into action, but to his surprise, Dean remains put, only reaching up to cup Castiel's jaw. 

"Will you listen to me? If I take the lead for the night, will you do what I say?"

The mere thought of letting go all control, of letting himself bare in front of Dean to take and take and take, spurs Castiel's arousal, and he nods. 

"Yes, Dean."

"And you'll tell me if anything is too much?"

"Yes, Dean," Castiel says, and Dean grins. 

"C'mere."

Dean's hands reach up to pull Castiel down into a soft, languid kiss, which dissipates into a series of gentle pecks, as he pushes himself to his knees, and reaches for Castiel's briefs, pulling at the elastic as he nuzzles into the crook of Castiel's shoulder, pressing a soft kiss in the hollow. 

"Get these off for me, I need to check for some lube."

Castiel nods and waits for Dean to hop off the bed, before lifting his hips in the air and pushing his briefs off. He's never quite felt the need to be ashamed of his vessel before, now his own body, but somehow he finds himself hoping Dean isn't repulsed by him. His finger traces down the dark trail of hair from his navel down to his crotch, and he wraps a hand around his erect cock, hoping Dean wouldn't care about the trimmed bush of hair preceding his cock. He allows his head to fall back against the headboard, as he begins slow, lazy tugs around his cock. He knows in the distance, Dean rummaging through his wallet, and the distinct sound of some sort of plastic packet falling to the ground catches Castiel's attention. He cracks an eye open and glances down at Dean, who stands up with the packet, and makes his way over to the bed. 

"Jesus, you're packing, Cas."

Dean snorts, and although the joke flies right off the top of Castiel's head, he assumes it has something to do with the genitals on his vessel. 

"Uhm, yes, it's not really mine. I mean, now it is, but it wasn't before, you know what I-"

The soft press of Dean's lips to his startles him into shutting up, and he goes silent, allowing Dean to suck his lips with obscene, wet smacks. 

"So cute when you're mumbling, baby."

Dean groans, and positions himself between Castiel's legs. 

"You ever play with your cock before?"

"Uh, yes, quite a few times."

Castiel answers, shying away at first, cheeks burning up as he averts his gaze and squeezes his legs shut. 

"Hey, it's okay, no one's judging you, baby, you're so gorgeous."

Dean mumbles against his cheek, before pulling away and gripping Castiel's thighs to spread them open. 

"Fuck," He says, and Castiel twitches when the cool air in the room brushes against the tip of his warm cock. Dean licks his palm until it's wet, and wraps it around Castiel's cock. Castiel hisses at the foreign touch, eyes slipping shut and teeth sinking into his bottom lip, as Dean pulls his cock into lousy strokes, lips gliding down to drop gentle kisses over Castiel's heated skin. 

Castiel crumples the bedsheet in his hands, chest rising and falling heavily, as Dean continues to jack him off with lazy but heavy strokes. There's a distant trace of a nefarious tickling sensation in the depths of Castiel's groin, but this early on, the sensation flickers, welcomed, but nowhere on the horizon of overflowing. 

"I'm going to touch you now, deeper, tell me if it's alright."

Dean says, and it lulls Castiel back to the present as he blinks his eyes open and settles them on Dean. 

"'Mkay."

Castiel mumbles, and his body trembles with the anticipation of Dean's touch down- _down there_. To his hole. His quivering, needy hole. Although Dean's strokes don't stop, they do get sporadic, only for a while as the sound of a packet ripping reaches Castiel's ears, and he clenches his throbbing hole, a natural reaction of his body. 

Then it comes. Castiel gasps. 

The first touch of a cold, slick finger to his tight, small hole.

Castiel hasn't played with his hole in weeks, and the disuse of it appears to have strengthened the tense orifice. He keens, hips jerking up, only for Dean to dig his fingers into Castiel's hipbone and pin him down. 

"Keep it down, baby, there's someone else in the house," Dean says, and brings his hand back to tug at Castiel's cock. The strokes are erratic, but Castiel couldn't be less bothered, especially not with the prodding finger at his hole. Dean pushes his finger, and _oh_ , just when Castiel thinks it's about to pop past the rim, Dean withdraws it. A single finger, and he massages it all round Castiel's pink, quivering rim. In circles, what appears to be from the left to the right, then simply pressing against the rim, pushing his finger in, but pulling it out right before it pops, and teasing relentlessly. He moves onto circles once again, right to left this time, and Castiel groans in frustration. 

"Just put it in," He rasps, voice husky and breathless, but the only sound he receives as a response is that of Dean laughing. 

"Told you I'm gonna' take my time, darling."

"Oh, fuck you."

Castiel whines, beating his fist against the bed when Dean pulls at his rim, using his finger to stretch the hole, pulling the muscles aside at different spots around the rim, studying the deep pink insides of Castiel's ass. He finds it hard to keep his toes put steady into the mattress, as they curl, a cramp building its trail up in his calf, as he pushes a foot up in the air, and rests one over Dean's back. 

"Dean, put it in, please, put it in-"

There's a prominent urgency to Castiel's words, but Dean, _the bastard that he is_ , doesn't give any sign of a response, continuing to pull at his rim when at once-

Dean sucks Castiel into his mouth. 

_ "Oh?!"  _ Castiel yelps, and his hand flies out to push Dean deeper on his cock, hips bucking up into the wet, tight heat of Dean's mouth, and it happens in such a frenzy, Castiel doesn't even realize Dean has popped a finger past his rim, as it's deep, deep within him, almost up to a knuckle, and Dean thrusts it in shallow movements. It appears to be Dean's middle finger, thick and long, pumping into Castiel's tight hole, probing around Castiel's walls as if in search of something. 

"Oh yes, don't stop, don't stop-"

The needy, eager tone of his voice surprises Castiel, but he doesn't pay it much heed as he rocks his hips back and forth, grinding them against Dean's finger in his ass. His wicked mouth sucks Castiel, tongue laving around the girth, as he bobs his head up and down, sucking on the tip and swiping his tongue over the slit dripping a few beads of pre-come. 

The faint traces of the slow rising turmoil in the depths of Castiel's groin returns, and this time, it builds firmly, corroding against Castiel's walls from the inside as it builds, second by second, and only intensifies when-

"Fuck," Castiel hisses, when Dean pushes another finger in beside his previous one, two fingers thrusting into his ass, not quite ruthless, but not merciful either, and Dean pops off Castiel's cock, leaving a string of spit hanging from his lips to Castiel's cock, and with his free hand he brushes it away, reaching down to wrap his hand around the slick length, stroking in steady, fast strokes; fingers stretching Castiel's rim, scissoring his insides, as the fingers prod the walls of his orifice for a spot both Dean and he know will bring him closer to the edge, if not over. Castiel whines, chest rising and falling as he pants, as he pulls his stomach in, and his hands reach for Dean, lips curling into a pout, as he keens. 

"De- Dean- Dean-"  He chants, over and over again, eyes squeezed shut as his thighs tremble with desperation, and his toes curl into the mattress under him. Before he knows it, a broad hand cups his face, and he blinks his eyes open, only for Dean to lean up and pull him into a soft kiss, slow and assuring, and it sends a pang of pleasure straight down to Castiel's groin, as he parts his mouth, already exhausted from Dean's incessant thrusting, and allows Dean to lead him, warm tongue sliding in to swirl around Castiel's own, and it hits him-

The gush of a climax, just on the edge— it has Castiel bucking his hips up, and the fingers in his ass, three now, brush against a soft, thick swell in his ass, and Castiel gasps into the kiss, throwing his head back, as Dean's lips drag over his neck. Dean mumbles something against Castiel's skin, pressing into the swell in his ass, and judders his fingers, shaking his finger in Castiel's ass as the final high of the touch pushes Castiel over the edge, and he comes, heavy and thick, in white splatters across his chest, and his cock twitches, chest spasming and thighs still quivering as he digs his teeth into his bottom lip, beating his fist down into the bed. 

"O-oh-h-"

Comes his broken mewl, as his back arches off the bed, and the fingers in his ass withdraw. 

For a moment, he can do nothing. His legs are stinging with a cramp. His chest is heaving with mighty breaths. His hands fall against the bed. His entire body seizes with paralysis, and all he knows is gentle, warm lips pecking at his neck, nipping at his collarbone, sucking at his shoulder, and with the weakest brush of his hand, he reaches up to thread his fingers through Dean's hair. 

"Was that okay, baby?"

Dean asks, as he settles next to Castiel, and drapes an arm over his stomach, not bothering about the white splatters of come on Castiel's skin as he reaches up to nose against Castiel's cheek. 

"It was, it was, it was ethereal, to say the least."

Dean laughs, and the sound thrums under Castiel's skin. 

"That's just the beginning, you know," He says, and rises on all fours, crawling over Castiel's body and pressing soft kisses down to his chest, dragging his tongue over Castiel's sensitive nipple, drawing a weak moan from under him, and Castiel holds Dean's head in his hand, scratching behind his ear as his eyes flutter shut and he feels Dean's lips ghost over his ear, "-I still need to fuck you, sweetheart. Gonna' fill you up so good, you'll be feeling me for days."

Castiel whines and squeezes his slippery ass-cheeks together, and somehow, something is brushing at his chest, wiping the wetness away, and he registers it faintly as some kind of wet shirt. 

"Tell me when you're ready," Dean says, and a series of wet squelches reaches Castiel's ears, and he cracks an eye open, only to find Dean, at the edge of the bed, on his haunches, his hand palming his cock inside his underwear, as his lips hang apart, soft, shuddering breaths slipping past them. Absently, Castiel grazes a hand over his chest, before sitting up, legs still weak, but he wants to see Dean, needs to feel Dean, so he rises up on fours, crawling over to where Dean is stroking himself, soft grunts rising in the back of his throat, downright delicious when Castiel drinks them in, and he settles between Dean's legs, bending low until his chest is hovering inches from the mattress, and his ass is up in the air, the cool wind in the room pricking at his sensitive, puckered hole when it's exposed. 

Castiel eyes the length with predominant hunger in his eyes. He's seen Dean on some days, only in his briefs, when he steps out of the shower or changes his clothes. He knows Dean is big, length-wise bigger than average, presumably around seven to eight inches when he's aroused, but the girth of it is wide, too wide if you ask Castiel, and although the mere prospect of Dean's cock inside him, filling him up deep and full has him drooling, he can't suppress the slight anxiousness of it, the fact that he's never had something so _big_ in his ass before, having only used his fingers to play with himself. 

Pushing all doubts away for a moment, Castiel covers his hand over Dean's, prompting the hunter to blink his eyes wide open, and he stares down at Castiel, throat dry and hands frozen, lascivious greed in his eyes, as Castiel gazes up at him through his fluttering eyelashes, feigning a coy look with his big, blue eyes peering up at Dean, and he pulls the elastic of Dean's briefs down, big cock springing out of its confines, nudging against Castiel's parted lips, hanging heavy and curved in front of Castiel's face. At once, Castiel feels his throat go dry, and his tongue rests heavy in his mouth, soaking in his spit, as he eyes the length, hole quivering with the need to be pounded senseless. 

"Cas, you don't need to-"

Dismissing Dean's refusal, Castiel wraps a hand around Dean's cock, and licks a flat stripe over the tip, one that has Dean cursing to himself, as his hand settles on Castiel's head, massaging Castiel's scalp, while Castiel, so drawn by Dean's cock, continues to pepper little kitten licks to the tip, swirling his tongue around the ridges of Dean's cock, down the curve of the moist, leaking tip, swiping his tongue around the slit, probing in to taste the somewhat salty pre-come, and he shuts his eyes, breathing in a deep breath, before opening his mouth wide, and sinking it down onto Dean's cock. 

"Fuck," Dean hisses, and his hand tightens in Castiel's hair, while Castiel, jaw throbbing with the dull ache of being stretched so wide apart, bobs his head on the length of Dean's cock, tongue pressed flat against the underside, as he simply allows Dean to slide in and out of the wetness of his mouth. A slender finger tugs at his rim, before popping in and thrusting in all the way to his prostate, and Castiel bucks his hips back, a choked moan slips past his throat as Dean buries himself to the hilt in Castiel's throat, until the tip of his cock nudges against the back of Castiel's throat, and he lets out an involuntary whimper, eyes watering as he gags on Dean's cock, paired with the overstimulation of his prostate. Castiel's soft cock twitches under him, but he doesn't pay it any attention, instead focused on sucking the cock in his mouth. He sucks the air around Dean's cock, creating a faint suction and he minds his teeth, sucking Dean in with a loud, obnoxious slurping noise, but surprisingly it only spurs Dean on, and he shoves another rough finger inside Castiel's ass, pumping it hard, as he grips the back of Castiel's hair and shoves him down on his cock, thrusting into Castiel's mouth, eliciting soft mewls from him. 

"Fuck, I can't- m'close- don't wanna come so soon-"

Dean mumbles, and Castiel pops off his cock, head falling into Dean's lap as he pushes back on Dean's fingers, whining at the feeling of being full, but needing more, so much more, to satisfy the ceaseless want in his groin. 

"Hey, hey, you wanna' take a break, sweetheart? You wanna' take a little time?"

A soothing hand caresses the back of Castiel's neck, and he sits up, allowing Dean's fingers to fall from his ass. 

"Dean, just please, I want you inside me."

Castiel says, causing Dean's eyes to go wide, and his lips part as he regards Castiel before a light smirk graces his lips, and he slips his arms under Castiel's arms, pulling him into a hug, as he tips them back on the bed, and Castiel's back hits the bed, his eyes wide as he bursts into a soft chuckle, Dean beaming at him from above, as their chests press flush against each other. 

"You're so gorgeous, Cas. Especially when you laugh."

Castiel's lips press shut as he gazes up at Dean, brushing a finger down Dean's jaw, as his eyes follow the movement. 

"Dean?"

"Yes, sweetheart?"

"You won't regret this in the morning, will you?"

Dean sighs, and threads his hand through Castiel's hair, stealing a soft kiss of Castiel's lips. 

"No. I won't. I promise."

Castiel gulps, and before his thoughts can wander off, Dean rises and crawls back on the bed to slot himself between Castiel's legs. 

"You ready now?"

Dean asks, and Castiel nods, swallowing thick as he spreads his legs open. 

"So pretty for me, baby," Dean says, as he rubs his dry thumb over Castiel's hole. Castiel's cock perks up at the attention, and he keens, reaching for Dean's hand as Dean tugs at his rim. 

"Dean."

"What?"

"C'mere."

Castiel whines and Dean chuckles, before dipping down to wrap Castiel in his arms, simply relishing in the feel of his chest, rising and falling, and his heartbeat thumping at a steady pace. He kisses the top of Castiel's head before pulling back and focusing on Castiel's hole, which quivers with the need to be filled. 

"I'm gonna start going in now, so tell me if it hurts, 'kay, baby?"

Castiel hums, and widens his legs, hooking one over Dean's shoulder, the other behind Dean, as Dean jerks his cock a few times, and reaches for the lube. He squeezes the packet right onto his cock, and some on Castiel's hole, the cool liquid only adding to the anticipation in Castiel's nerves, as he grips onto the sheets, eyes fixed onto Dean, as he tries to steady his breathing. 

"You're thinking too hard, Cas. Relax, or it's gonna' hurt you," Dean says, and rubs an assuring hand over Castiel's face. 

"Sorry," Castiel mumbles and shuts his eyes trying to think of anything but the pressure about to rub against his hole. He tries to think about Dean, with his green, round eyes, his beaming smile, his broad hands, his rich laughter. He tries to think of all the days they can spend together, bundled in each other's arms, all the times he can slip into bed next to Dean and wrap his arms around him, all the times he can kiss him, his beautiful pink lips, his cute little nose, his sharp jaw, his forehead, his-

"Dean-"

A gasp punches out of Castiel's chest. 

The head of Dean's cock pops past his rim, already twitching inside Castiel's ass, and the burn around his hole causes him to grip the sheets tighter, head falling back against the pillow as Dean pushes in. Inside Castiel, the walls of his tight, heated orifice dilate, spreading apart as the wide intrusion penetrates deeper, and a strained moan slips past Castiel's lips when Dean stops moving, his cock _just_ brushing against Castiel's prostate, as he bottoms out, buried to the hilt, the weight of his girth heavy and aching inside Castiel, before Dean pulls his cock back, and thrusts it in, slow and agonizing. A shadow creeps over Castiel's skin, and he blinks his eyes open, only to watch as Dean drapes himself over Castiel, hands planted firmly next to Castiel's shoulders in the bed, as Dean rocks his hips, driving his cock inside Castiel in rhythmic, steady thrusts. Dry lips brush against Castiel's own, and his eyes flutter open in time to catch Dean's expression— a face morphed into pure bliss, eyebrows furrowed, lips hung apart, soft grunts escaping his throat as he noses against Castiel's cheek. 

"Keep going," Castiel breathes out, reaching up to wrap his hands around Dean's neck, tilting his head up to study the sharp, defined features on Dean's face. Before he knows it, Castiel is leaning up to capture Dean's lips in a kiss, grinding back on his cock, meeting his thrusts with a movement of his own, feeling Dean's thrusts quicken inside him, pulling back and pushing in, quick and sharp, no delay in the pace of his hips, and the tip of his cock, _oh so cruel_ , simply grazes against Castiel's prostate, bringing him to the edge and leaving him dry. Strong, broad arms, paired with taut, large biceps that only add to Castiel's arousal, wrap around his waist, yanking him up and Castiel yelps at the sudden movement, now finding himself in an awkward, seemingly painful position, with his head and neck on the bed, torso and hips lifted, Dean's cock thrusting into him at a fast, ruthless pace that has the bed under them creaking with rhythmic, loud thuds. 

" _Oh, ohh, ohhh, ohhhh Dean-_ "

Castiel yells, half aware of how his volume would come across to the woman in the room next to them, but with the cock nailing his prostate over and over again, without any relent, simply pushing him closer to another orgasm, driving him into a frenzy, he couldn't care less. His arms loop around Dean's neck where they scramble and scratch and claw at his back, and his hips buck up to meet Dean, and he feels it once again, the slow build of an orgasm, of a sensation flourishing within his groin, spreading to his thighs and his balls, his cock smacking with wet, obscene sounds against his stomach, teeth sunk into his bottom lip, and the distinct creep of a tickling itch withing his balls. Judging by the way Dean groans out loud and drops his head down, he's close too. 

"Fuck, I'm gonna' come, Cas, fuck-"

Dean groans, but before he can get any closer to the edge, Castiel pulls back, swinging his leg off Dean's shoulder as he sits up, and Dean stares down at him, shell-shocked, offended too, mostly confused, only for Castiel to pull him down on the bed, much to his bewilderment, as Castiel straddles his hips, a resolute glint in his eyes as he leans down to capture Dean's lips in a kiss, while grabbing hold of his cock under him, rubbing it at his rim, before he pushes his ass down on it, breath shuddering against Dean's face, lips never leaving the other's, as he groans inside Dean's mouth and sinks down on his cock. 

With their positions reversed, with Castiel atop Dean, sinking down on his cock becomes easier, and Castiel pulls his face away, leaning back as his head falls down, and he moans when the tip of Dean's cock _finally_ presses against his prostate firmly. 

"I've wanted this for so long, Dean."

"Wanted what?"

"To ride you."

Dean groans and Castiel feels his cock twitch inside him. Once Castiel starts bouncing on Dean's cock, it doesn't take long for both of them to regain their pace, regain the flourish of an orgasm within their groins. In a split second, their eyes meet, and then it's Dean's lips on Castiel's, a flurry of skin, teeth, tongue, spit, and moans, hands scrambling for purchase around each other's bodies as Castiel inhales the scent of Dean's body, his sweat mingled with his musk, as he drinks in the taste of his heated skin, back arched as he grinds down on Dean's cock— it hits him in the gut, full force, the feeling of staggering over the edge, and he groans into Dean's mouth. 

"I'm close, fuck Cas, I'm close-"  Dean says, and Castiel nods, stilling his hips as Dean spreads his ass cheeks, broad hands spreading his ass open as Dean thrusts up into him, while Castiel holds onto Dean's shoulders to stable himself. 

"Dean, I'm going to come, right now, I'm going to-"  Castiel gulps, and before he can finish his sentence, he comes, painting Dean's chest in thick, white sprays of come. 

Hot, thick release shoots up into Castiel's channel, and his hole, greedy as ever, swallows up the fluid as if it were ambrosia, and Castiel falters against Dean, going absolutely pliant in his arms, as their foreheads meet, breaths mingling, lips an inch away, the mere prospect of being connected to Dean, in ways so physical, and yet so soulful, in ways no one except Dean can calm him, calm the fire inside his gut is enough to have Castiel drifting towards ecstasy. Castiel lifts his hips after a moment, settling down into Dean's lap, his soft cock rubbing against Castiel's thigh. 

Dean leans back, his back hitting the bed, and he takes Castiel with him, holding him in his arms. Castiel's cheek presses against Dean's chest, and he shuts his eyes, stilling himself as the sound of Dean's heartbeat, slowing down into rhythmic, steady beats fills his ears. A soft hand brushes across his forehead, down to his cheek, and he props his jaw up on Dean's chest, gazing up at him as both Dean and he ride through their post-orgasmic high, pure euphoria bleeding through their bodies. 

"You're so beautiful, Cas."

"This isn't my face, Dean. Although it is now."

"Not just your face," Dean says, "- you. Everything you are. You're just, just magical. I don't know how." 

He quirks his bottom lip, and it tugs at something inside Castiel. His eyes soften as he gazes up at Dean, reaching a hand up to press his thumb over Dean's lip, eyes following the action, as he drags the thumb down to Dean's chin. 

"Could we do this again?"

Castiel asks, albeit a little shy, as he averts his eyes, in case Dean's eyes turn cold. 

"Again? We can do this anytime we want."

"You mean... you mean, just me or-"

"What?" Dean asks, incredulous, before grinning at Castiel's naivety, "-of course, _just_ you, Cas. Only you. No one else. You spoiled me for anyone else."

"I don't know what that means but-"

Castiel starts, only to be cut off by Dean's soft laugh. 

"It means I'm in love with you, you idiot."

As much as Castiel expects Dean to panic, and take his words back, he never does. He keeps smiling. 

"And you're not scared?"

Dean licks his lips, and his hands hold Castiel's face. 

"I'm so scared, Cas. I can't begin to tell you. But I'd rather spend the rest of my life with you in fear than never spend it with you at all."

Stunned, Castiel goes silent, a lump rising in the back of his throat as he locks his jaw, eyes fixated on Dean and the relief twinkling within them. 

"I've waited so long for this."

"Me too, Cas, me too."

And just like that, Dean pulls Castiel up into another soft, languid kiss, and this time it isn't heated, there's no urgency, there's no arousal, there's only warmth blooming in Castiel's chest as he drinks in the taste of Dean's lips. 

"Let's get cleaned up, and I'll get those cocoas reheated. For real," Dean snorts. 

"I think the kind lady is probably asleep."

"With the sounds you were making?” Dean scoffs, “- I bet she's regretting ever letting us in and allowing us to ruin her night."

Castiel blushes at the comment, and shifts his gaze down to Dean's chest, fingers playing with the amulet around his neck, as Dean kisses the top of his head. 

"Dean?"

"Yeah, baby?"

"I don't appreciate you calling me an idiot, but I'm in love with you too."

Dean's answering laugh is music to Castiel's ears, and a content smile graces his lips as Dean's arms tighten around him. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Don't forget to leave a kudos and a comment to appreciate your local fanfic writer! 😇😁


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